


Don't Make Me Sleep Alone

by TimmyJaybird



Series: Show Me the Meaning (Of Being Lonely) [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Blowjobs, M/M, Masturbation, Rimming, Underage Drinking, implied KonCassie, onesided DickDami, onesided JayTim, past TimSteph
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-21
Updated: 2015-10-21
Packaged: 2018-04-27 09:42:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,720
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5043409
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimmyJaybird/pseuds/TimmyJaybird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tim knows he needs to talk to Damian- but talking never really seems to involve words. At least, not the right ones. And with the fear that he is only going to hurt Damian more- that maybe their method of coping is simply <i>not right</i>, the only thing he can do is take a little advice to heart, and leave.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Make Me Sleep Alone

**Author's Note:**

> Here I am drowning in TimDami. There was a larger interest than I expected in a sequel to the last fic, so here we have a series now!

Tim tapped his fingers against his hip, staring at Damian as he hoisted himself up their climbing wall, down in the cave. According to Alfred, Damian had been down here since about six AM- and it was after ten, now.

Tim knew he’d been on patrol the night prior. He’d gotten, if he was lucky, four hours of sleep. Probably less.

Tim took a deep breath, forced himself to walk towards the wall. Damian didn’t have a harness on- was half way up it, and Tim wasn’t sure if he _heard_ his foot steps or-

He got his answer when Damian glanced over his shoulder, down at him. “Drake.”

Tim opened his mouth to say something, anything- maybe what he’d come down for, the whole _we need to talk about the other night_ speech- but there was nothing, and all he could do was offer a half wave. Damian watched him, for a moment, before he turned away, and Tim was sure he’d continue his climb, ignore him-

Instead, he eased his way back down, hopping off a few feet from the ground and landing _perfectly_. He spun on his heel, folding his arms and resuming his stare at Tim. His stare with those pretty eyes-

Tim was making a habit of noticing them now.

“You get any sleep?” Tim asked, trying not to get distracted by the drop of sweat that was making its way down Damian’s temple- or the one on his neck. Or the fact that his tank top was clinging to his torso too tightly. Trying not to get distracted by the kid at all- and this had never been a problem.

He shrugged a shoulder. “Some.”

“Alfred said you were down here at six.”

“-tt- your point is?” Tim frowned. Back to being defensive, closed off. Back to the Damian Tim knew, was used to.

“That’s like, four hours max. Less, probably. Did you eat?” Damian shook his head, and Tim shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Grab shower and eat a late breakfast with me,” Tim offered, and then- as if knowing Damian would argue he didn’t need the company, didn’t need Tim to _babysit_ him, “I’m starving and eating alone is boring.”

Damian hesitated, before he gave Tim a gentle nod. “Alright.” They stood there for a moment, just existing- looking, watching. Tim could’ve cut the strange sort of tension with a knife- not the kind that had him eager to leave, but the kind where he wanted to stare at Damian, stare at his eyes- but then look away. Where he didn’t want to get caught.

He left Damian to shower, headed back up into the Manor. Blissfully, neither Dick nor Jason seemed to be around- in fact, Tim hadn’t seen either, since they’d come out. If he was honest, he was fine with that. He had moments where he still felt so bitter, wanted to punch Jason until his lip split- and Dick, _Dick_. He’d looked up to Dick so long, he couldn’t help the sting he felt in his chest, like Dick had taken something sharp and wedged it between his ribs.

And, if he was honest, maybe there was a hint of bitterness for _Damian_ too- because he thought it was pretty obvious that the kid had it bad for Dick. Maybe he still clung to the fact that they hurt together.

He could have found Alfred and asked him to make breakfast- but Tim didn’t much like asking Alfred to do _anything_. He did so much as it was. Instead he let himself into the kitchen, set the coffee pot on, and stood there, with his hands on his hips, contemplating what the _hell_ he was going to make-

And why he felt the need to make breakfast for Damian at all.

He tapped his foot, didn’t dare trying anything that took more than the barest of simple skills- he didn’t fool himself, he was a disaster in the kitchen. He made his way to the fridge, opening it and simply staring.

“Nothing will change, no matter how hard you stare.” Tim jumped, jerking his had, finding Cassandra standing in the doorway. She had her arms folded, was watching him with a slightly amused glint in her eyes. Tim’s shock turned to a smile.

“Wasn’t sure if you were around or not.” Cassandra moved over towards him, placing her own hand on the door and glancing around his arm. He hadn’t heard her- and god, it could be scary, how utterly silent she was. “Want breakfast?”

“ _You’re_ cooking?” she asked, quirking up a brow, and Tim nodded. “I think I’ll pass.”

“Your loss,” he teased, and she slipped an arm around his waist, offering him a half hug as she leaned her chin on his shoulder.

“How are you?” Tim bit at his lip, offering up no words, and Cass squeezed again. “That bad?”

“Better some days...or hours.” He shrugged a shoulder. “Sort of happy that I haven’t had to see Jason, honestly. Or Dick... god, that makes me terrible.”

“Doesn’t. You’re hurt. You’re allowed to be hurt.” Cass stepped back, sliding her hands into the pockets of her jeans. “I’m sure Jason understands. Stephanie asked about you, said you haven’t returned her texts.”

Tim shrugged a shoulder. If he was honest, he hadn’t spoken to anyone over the past couple days. He’d slept off his hangover in Damian’s room, and when they’d woken up again Tim had left- this time with few words, and no protest. He’d spent as much time as possible holed up in his room, working on things that really didn’t _need to be worked on_ \- reviewing old cases, looking for those possible missed links. Not that he even thought they were there- but it meant he was occupied, and it meant he didn’t have to see anyone.

Stephanie had texted him, called him. He didn’t return any of them. Jason had sent him a text, a single _how are you_ , which Tim had ignored. Dick, a few messages, the last- _I’m here when you want to talk_. Even his friends at the Tower had texted him, having no idea what had happened. Tim had brushed everyone off-

“When you can, let her know how you’re doing,” Cassandra offered, “She worries.”

“She was pretty _excited_ about Jason and Dick.” There it was, the bitterness. Back, black like death-vile and so thick on Tim’s tongue it made him sick. Cassandra waited, as if she knew Tim had more, needed more, and he shoved the fridge shut, reaching a hand up to rake it back through his hair. “She knew, Cass. Fuck, everyone knew, but she was supposed to be one of my best friends. I thought maybe she’d be a little _upset_ or something.”

“She was drunk,” Cassandra said, “And while it’s not an excuse, she was. Seems you all were. She’s sorry that she didn’t even think to make sure you were okay- if you want honesty, Tim, I’ve been telling her for weeks there was something between Jason and Dick. She was excited because I was right.” Cassandra sighed. “She was excited because how often do any of us get something good?”

Tim let his hand fall down to his side. And now he felt like an ass- because she was right. How often _did_ any of them get something good, and have it last? He should be happy, he should wish them the best-

And he would. Someday. But right now, he still wanted to punch them both.

“I’m going to meet her for coffee,” Cassandra finally said, “Alfred is taking me to the city. Do me a favor, and don’t get lost in your room again.” Tim nodded, and Cass reached out, took his hand and squeezed it. Her palm was warm, and when her fingers lingered Tim felt a little ease, in his chest. He watched her go, thought about digging his phone from his pocket, maybe getting back to a few people-

But Damian was walking in, a minute later. He’d changed from his workout clothes to jeans and a tshirt, his hair still damp from the shower.

“Tried to get her to stay for breakfast,” Tim said, offering up a smile. Damian shrugged a shoulder.

“I like that it is just us.” Tim felt a little twitch in his chest over that, a fleeting moment of fluttering, before Damian was folding his arms.

“...were you going to attempt to cook?” Tim nodded, and Damian shook his head. “-tt- Get your coffee and have a seat. I will do it.”

“I asked _you_ , seems only fair I cook.” Okay, that sounded suspiciously like a sort of date, but Tim couldn’t shake the idea that he should be doing this for Damian- that the kid was hurting more than he was showing. But Damian was ignoring him, opening the fridge, pulling things out and setting them on the counter.

“If you want, you may help.” Tim smiled, watched as Damian shut the fridge, grabbing a pan from where it hung and setting it on the stove.

“Okay, have me do something.” Tim gripped at the counter, leaned on it as Damian flipped open the eggs, before passing a counter filled with green leaves to him.

“Chop some of that.” Tim grabbed the cutting board, finding the knives and popped the container open, dropping some of the spinach leaves on the cutting board. He moved slowly with the knife- because, no matter how many weapons he trained with, a kitchen knife felt like an entirely foreign objected. He heard the sound of eggs cracking, the shells being discarded in the trashcan- the sound of a spatula on the pan.

Damian looked over at him, frowning. “Those are still huge.”

“Does it matter?”

“-tt-.” Damian reached out for the knife, plucking it from Tim’s hand and sliding in, forcing Tim back so that he was pinned between Tim’s body and the counter. Tim froze, for a moment, before he pushed against Damian, fitting against his back carefully and reaching out, gripping at the counter. Damian froze, knife poised- and for a moment, Tim simply heard him _breathing_. Then, quietly, “Drake...”

“Sorry,” Tim whispered, feeling color rising in his cheeks. He pushed himself off the counter, away from Damian- missed the way the teen exhaled, the way Damian’s hand clenched around the knife, around itself, at the loss of contact.

Tim left Damian to finish- felt like he would only make a mess of things, the food at the bottom of that list. He focused on the coffee instead, pulled down two mugs and filled them. He left Damian’s black, to his own added sugar, a generous amount of the flavored creamer he found in the fridge. And for a moment, he simply held the mug in his hands, curled his fingers around it and let the warmth seep into him. _Soothing_.

He turned around, after taking a moment to compose himself, found Damian already plating their breakfast. Damian held both the plates, and Tim picked up his coffee mug as well, jerking his head towards the dining room. Damian nodded, walking out and setting the plates down on the long table- to Tim’s silent delight, directly next to each other.

They didn’t speak as they ate- but Tim didn’t exactly mind. He might have played up his desire to not eat alone to convince Damian to join him, without the teen feeling like Tim was inviting him because he was _worried_ \- but there had been honesty to it. And the past years aside, Tim was finding that right now, Damian’s company was about the only one he wanted.

Across from the table, the curtains were drawn over the large windows. When Tim was done, he gathered up his mug, pushed his chair back and, without a word, walked over to them- ripping them back. Natural light spilled in, and a beautiful view of the grounds behind the manor, covered in the lightest blanket of snow- but what had Tim smiling was the fact that it was snowing in that moment- light and fluffy.

Without a word, he plopped directly down on the floor, crossing his legs and cradling his coffee mug, simply watching. Behind him, he heard Damian’s chair, his gentle footsteps- and then the teen was sitting on the floor next to him, watching as well.

“We need to talk,” Tim whispered, not looking away from the snow. He lifted his mug, took a sip of his coffee.

Damian sighed, and Tim heard his fingertips tapping gently on his mug.

“About the other night-“

“What is there to discuss? That it happened?” Tim glanced over at Damian, nodding.

“Well...yeah. Look, I...I don’t want you to be upset.”

Damian snorted, rolling his eyes. “You think I’m upset that you got me off?” Tim’s cheeks flushed a little- until he remembered that Alfred was gone, had driven Cassandra into the city, and the color subsided.

“Yeah. You and I were never great, I know. I was drunk, I should’ve had more control.”

“Neither of us were drunk the following morning.” Damian sipped at his coffee.

Tim sighed. “I know. Just...give me some peace of mind and tell me you were cool with it.”

“Are you truly concerned I wasn’t?” Tim shrugged a shoulder, and Damian shifted, turning slightly more towards him. “Drake...I was not drunk when I asked you to stay.” He sighed, looking down at his mug. “I... I did not want to be alone.”

Tim nodded. He set his mug down, reaching over and squeezing Damian’s shoulder. The teen glanced up- and those jade eyes were full of hurt, of aches that a kid that young shouldn’t feel. The death of a dream, drowning in his pupils. “Hey, I get it,” Tim whispered.

“I do not regret it,” Damian added, “It was...nice. To forget about Grayson for the night.”

Tim offered s sheepish grin. “Sex is a good distraction.” Damian nodded, looking back down at his mug. “And you know...if you want to talk, I’m here. I mean, we’re in the same boat, after all.”

Damian squeezed his mug slightly. “We are, aren’t we?” Another nod, and Damian was moving then, away from Tim’s touch. He reached for Tim’s mug, standing up and wordlessly walking out of the room. Tim watched him go, before turning back towards the window, unfolding his legs and pulling his knees up, towards his chest, leaning forward against them. When Damian returned, Tim’s mug was full again- the perfect shade of tan. Tim took it with a quiet _thanks_ as Damian sat back down next to him, took a sip and realized it was _perfect_.

He had no idea Damian knew how he liked his coffee, other than, as he’d said before over the years, _disgustingly watered down_.

“I have not seen Grayson,” Damian whispered, and Tim didn’t need him to elaborate.

“I haven’t seen Jason. Well...I did, that morning. But not since then.” He took another sip of the coffee, his belly feeling warm. He told himself it was simply the drink, the heat it was filling him with. “He’s tried to talk to me. But he gets it, at least.” Tim paused, then, “Doesn’t mean I’m not mad, at times.”

“I want to shove Grayson off a rooftop.”

Tim snorted, turning to face Damian and grinning. “You know, honestly? I wouldn’t stop you.” Damian looked over at him, offered up a half smile- broken, but true. “He _did_ take Jason.”

“They’re wretched man stealers.” Tim choked, laughing so sharply his ribs hurt.

“Who the fuck are you,” he said, between laughs, “And what did you do with my Damian?”

Damian’s smile this time wasn’t broken- it was _pretty_. “I am your Damian, Drake.”

And damn if Tim’s heart didn’t stop, for the briefest of moments, in his chest. He glanced away, down at his coffee, for a moment forgot to breathe- wasn’t sure he knew how. Wasn’t sure there was a reason for him _not_ knowing how.

When Tim looked back up, Damian was looking back out the window. He let himself turn, watch the snowflakes again, curl his fingers around his mug. “You know,” Tim whispered, “We’re going to have to see them together for the holidays. Being disgusting.”

Damian shuddered. “Think father will let us volunteer for patrol Christmas eve?”

“Hopefully. Maybe we can convince him to ban mistletoe.”

“Alfred wouldn’t let him.”

“Patrol it is then. You and me.” Damian glanced over at him, offered up one more half smile, and Tim raised his mug in a mock toast.

Damian lifted his as well, went so far as to clink the mug against Tim’s.

*

“Really Kon, he’s dating Dick now.” Tim leaned back, his laptop ignored on his lap, holding his phone up to his cheek. “Saw them make out with my own two eyes. Got the _pity_ look across the table.”

“Harsh.”

“ _Brutal_. He’s texted me a few times- but at least Jason gets I need some space. I wanna be happy for him, you know? I mean, I _care_.” Tim sighed. “I just would be happier if he was with me. But it’s _Dick_ \- can I really be mad at Dick?” Kon didn’t answer, and Tim laughed- a little bitter. “Actually yeah, I can be.”

“Are you okay?” Kon’s voice was concerned, and Tim tipped his head back, closing his eyes for a moment.

“Honestly? I don’t know. I guess I will be. Sometimes I’m more okay than others. It just fuckin’ hurts.” He sighed. “I could use a hug.”

That had Kon laughing. “Get your ass back to the tower, I’ll sandwich you right between Cassie and I.”

Tim grinned. “Hmmm, probably okay that little threesome with her first.” Kon’s laughter went muffled, and Tim knew he had his hand over his mouth. “I’ll see about coming back. I’m not doing shit here, and the distance would probably be good for me.”

“You’re missed, you know.”

“Yeah, I-“ Tim cut off when his door was thrown open. He jolted up, looking over at the doorway, found Damian watching him, face set into a scowl that dripped of murder, eyes angry and dark- and Tim was shoving his laptop off his lap, turning so his legs dangled off his bed. “Kon, I’m gonna have to call you back.”

He ended the call before Kon got another word in, studying Damian.

“Damian-“

“I don’t simply want to push him off a rooftop,” Damian said, “I want to make sure he lands in a pit of _acid_.”

Well _fuck_.

Tim stood up, crossing the room, towards him. “What happened?”

“He _called_ me, Drake. Called me and acted as if nothing was wrong- talked about how he missed me, how he hadn’t heard from me- and oh, _did I want to come over to his apartment- Jason wouldn’t mind_.” Tim cringed. Damian’s voice was dripping venom. “The _audacity_.”

“What did you do?”

“I...I didn’t do _anything_.” Damian clenched a hand into a fist- and Tim noticed his other hand was wrapped around the neck of a bottle. “I let him talk and talk, and I felt so _small_ and insignificant, like I wanted to simply disappear. I just...I told him I couldn’t. And I hung up.” He hung his head, and Tim reached out, brushed his finger tips along one shoulder. “I cannot do this, Drake. I just want to forget him.”

“I know. I know.” Tim reached out, didn’t think, simply wrapped his arms around Damian’s shoulders, pulled him into a hug. Damian fell against him, didn’t fight, his free arm reaching up, clutching at the back of Tim’s shirt. Tim turned, pressed his cheek to Damian’s shoulder, kept his grip so tight the teen could just manage to breathe. Only when he felt the tension slowly leaving Damian did he relax his hold, lean back a little and look down at the bottle in Damian’s hand. “You know, I remember you saying you were never drinking again.”

Damian huffed. “I’ll eat my own words, then.” Tim could’ve frowned- probably should’ve had told him there were better ways- but honestly, he couldn’t think of a single one.

Being this broken, it _sucked_.

“Where did you get this?” Tim asked, reaching down and taking the bottle from Damian’s hand.

“Father’s study.”

Tim choked. “So, you went into Bruce’s study, took his Bourbon, and, what, were just going to chug this shit from the bottle?” Damian shrugged a shoulder, and Tim laughed. “You’re fucking crazy. Do you know how expensive this shit is?”

“I highly doubt it matters.” Tim frowned, before he grabbed Damian by the wrist, sliding past him and guiding him into the hallway.

“We’ll compromise,” Tim offered. “We’ll have a glass, okay? He’ll forgive us that. But not from the bottle- have a little class.” He turned, winked at Damian- and swore the kid blushed. But Tim told himself that had to be his imagination-

Right?

He pushed open the heavy door to Bruce’s study, heading straight for his desk. He set the bottle down on it, as Damian closed the door. Around the desk, down in the last drawer he found glasses, and pulled two out, setting them on the desk.

“How did you know they were there?” Damian asked, and Tim smirked.

“Because I’ve had a drink with Bruce before.” It was true- hell, he was pretty sure they all had- except apparently, Damian. Which made since, _technically_ , by law, he was too young for it- but Tim didn’t think Bruce would care. Not if Damian came in and curled up in a chair opposite him, had a single glass and actually _talked_.

Tim reached for the bottle, popping it open- relieved it wasn’t a new bottle- and poured two glasses- maybe a little too generous, if he was honest. But he was feeling like he wouldn’t mind forgetting a bit, either.

He could worry about making this a habit in the morning.

Tim pushed the glass across the desk, picked up his own and settled down, into Bruce’s chair. They hadn’t turned a light on, but Bruce’s curtains were open- Tim figured Damian must have done that, because Bruce wasn’t one for _light_ \- and that let in a bit of starlight. Outside, the light snow had kept up.

Damian picked his own glass up, lifting it to his mouth.

“ _Sip_ ,” Tim said, his voice harder than he meant it to be- commanding, and Damian paused, before he took a single sip, pulling the glass away a moment later. Tim nodded, taking his own sip, as he settled back more, letting his arms rest on the arm rests of the chair.

“How long will this last?” Damian asked, idly swirling the liquid in his glass, before taking another sip. “How long will Grayson’s name taste so disgusting?”

“Who knows.” Tim lifted his glass, simply looked at it. “Might be a few weeks. Might take you months. It’s all different, Damian. Each day.”

Damian frowned, and Tim knew it wasn’t the answer he wanted. He kept the frown up as he lifted his glass, tossed his head back, and emptied the entire thing.

“ _Damian_.” Damian reached for the bottle, refilled his glass.

“If you are going to lecture me, Drake, I would rather drink alone.” Tim clamped his mouth shut, lifting his own glass and looking at it one more time-

Before draining it as well. He leaned forward, set his glass on the desk, slid it across to Damian. The teen’s scowl turned to a smile, and he refilled it, passing it back.

“Not the whole bottle,” Tim added, lifting his glass, “You don’t want a repeat of last time.”

“Not all of it, no.” Tim fought down a shiver at that, watched Damian take another sip.

“But some of it?” Tim watched over his glass as Damian walked around the desk, watched him toss back his head, finish his second glass. It _clinked_ against the wood as he set it down, before he leaned forward, gripped at the chair so he was leaning over Tim.

“If I said yes?”

Tim tossed his own head back, finishing off the drink- feeling warm in his limbs, his belly. He barely had the glass from his mouth when Damian had a hand gripping the collar of his shirt, jerking him forward. Their mouths crashed together, less sloppy than that first time, but the kiss was still flavored with alcohol.

Tim reached up with one hand, gripped Damian’s wrist, pushing up against him- up until Damian was letting go, pulling away from the chair as Tim surged forward. He was standing, out of it so fast it made him dizzy, but he didn’t care. A single step, and he was shoving his glass down on the desk, grabbing at Damian’s hips and lifting him up, until he was sitting on the desk. He slid between Damian’s legs, their kiss never once breaking, and reached up, sank both his hands into his hair.

He tugged, until Damian’s head was tipping back, kissed down his chin, along the curve of his throat. Damian sighed, hands reaching down, grasping at the lip of the desk.

“This what you wanted to repeat?” Tim asked, before he dragged his teeth along Damian’s throat. The younger man shuddered, a breathy _yes_ , and Tim couldn’t argue.

He had been the one to say sex was a great distraction.

He tilted his head, licked at the side of Damian’s neck. The ghost of a bruise Tim had left their first time together was there, beneath his mouth, and Tim was sucking on it, blossoming fresh scarlet and lilac against the skin. Damian gasped, eyes going wide, hips pushing forward, and Tim chuckled into his neck, a sound so devilish he didn’t even recognize his own voice.

“That really gets you going, doesn’t it?” He glanced up, liked the flush on Damian’s cheeks. The teen said nothing, nothing except,

“Shut up and kiss me, Drake.”

Tim couldn’t deny a request like that.

Damian had his arms around him, clinging to Tim frantically as Tim kissed him, vicious and raw, tongue pressing into his mouth, over the points of his teeth. Damian tried to bite him, but Tim only hissed, twisted his fingers in his hair and tugged, until Damian was gasping, mouth falling open- all the easier for Tim to nearly tongue-fuck him, to have Damian gasping for breath around him, nails digging in through Tim’s shirt. Tim pushed closer, rubbing up against him, and Damian’s hips jerked, dug into his body.

“Shit,” Tim breathed, pulling off Damian’s mouth.

“I never said you could _stop_ ,” Damian nearly growled, surging forward, kissing Tim again. He got Tim’s bottom lip between his teeth, pinched with the sharp points and Tim _mewled_ , rubbed against Damian and felt the teen’s hips pushing forward again- seeking friction, contact, _anything_.

“We’re making,” Tim managed, before Damian distracted his mouth again, for a moment. “A habit of this.” He inhaled, let Damian clutch at him, the teen wrapping his legs around him, leaning back so that his hips pushed up, so Tim had no choice but to grind right into them.

“Are we?” Damian’s eyes were wild, glints of deviousness- a devil right under Tim’s fingertips. Tim grinned.

“Seems it.”

“Are you-“ Damian cut off, as Tim rocked against him, squeezed his legs tighter around him, “ _complaining_?”

Tim hesitated, sucked on his tongue, before leaning in, nipping at Damian’s lower lip. “No,” he whispered, before he had his hands on him again, kissing Damian like he wanted to suck the very breath from his lungs. Damian continued to clutch at him, and Tim _wanted_ to blame the alcohol, wanted to think he wasn’t in control-

But even at his two-drink state, he felt alright. Knew who he was kissing, just how worked up Damian was, as they nearly rutted against each other. Knew and didn’t care- only _wanted_.

Maybe this was just a part of healing.

Damian unlocked his legs from around Tim- much to Tim’s dismay, he had rather liked having the muscles of his thighs squeezing against him, had wanted to grip them, try to bruise them through his jeans. But Damian was breaking the kiss, shoving Tim before he could lament over it further. Tim stumbled back a step, fell right back into Bruce’s chair, splayed out.

The teen pushed himself up, grinned at Tim- like he wanted to devour him, lick up every inch of flesh and taste the very marrow in his bones. The kind of grin that had Tim shuddering openly.

Damian pushed himself off the desk, fell straight down onto his knees and leaned over Tim, hands going for the fly of his jeans. Tim spread his legs further, arms flopped over the arms of the chair, hands clenching on themselves.

Was Damian-

“You don’t-“

“Shut up,” Damian nearly growled, popping the button open and dragging the zipper down. “Unless you _want_ me to stop?”

He had his hand in Tim’s pants, and Tim was shaking his head, as Damian squeezed him through his underwear. Stopping was the last thing he wanted, in that moment. He was so hard he ached, and Damian’s warm palm rubbing against him had him biting at his lip, staring down as his hair fell into his face. He reached down, grabbed the waistband of his own underwear, tugging them down, squirming until his cock was bobbing free. He hissed, over the cold air- the sound replaced by a moan when Damian’s hand wrapped around him, stroking up along his length. He swiped his thumb around the head, looking up at Tim.

Tim’s mouth opened, but he didn’t have any words. Wanted to beg Damian and _command him_ , wanted him to lean down with that pretty mouth, wrap those lips around him. In that moment, he wasn’t sure he’d wanted anything else.

“Inside your head again,” Damian whispered, his voice having a slight husk to it. He wasn’t unaffected by this, and Tim wondered just how turned on Damian get touching him.

“Thinking about you,” Tim whispered, and the words just flowed, _happened_ , like they had in the shower- like Tim couldn’t say no, when he was alone with Damian. Like everything in his head was shared property. “Your mouth is so pretty.”

Okay, maybe he was a _little_ drunk. Maybe. But Damian was flushing over that, such a sweet cherry red to his cheeks, and then he was leaning forward, pressing a kiss along Tim’s shaft, staring up at him. Tim’s breath hitched, and Damian mouthed his way up, until his tongue was flicking out, gathering up the precum beading there. Tim exhaled, slowly, gripped at the arms of the chair, as Damian’s tongue circled his head again, before he glanced back up, smiling.

“Try to last more than a minute.”

Before Tim could even open his mouth, Damian had his around him, leaning down and taking half his cock in over his tongue, one fist making up the difference. Tim groaned, mind reeling- Damian’s mouth was so hot, so wet- so utterly perfect that he couldn’t think of a single thing he’d ever thought would feel better.

All the fantasies he’d ever entertained about Jason suddenly dissolved, all the thoughts about what his mouth might feel like, his big hands on Tim’s hips- gone, dust and ash and not even a forgotten breath. Tim’s mind focused solely on Damian- as if there was simply no one else in the world. He managed to unclench one hand from the chair, to reach down, thread his fingers through Damian’s short hair. He stroked it back, pet him softly, and Damian hummed, glancing up at him as he pulled up towards the head of his cock, pulled off to let his tongue swirl around it.

“I like how you taste.”

Tim groaned, let his head fall back. “You could kill me,” he muttered, and Damian smirked, before taking him back in, resuming the even rhythm he had going. Tim kept touching his hair, soft, gentle strokes, the tips of his fingers making Damian nearly shiver. When Damian slid a little further down on his cock, Tim twisted his fingers, tugged slightly-

And then Damian’s hand was gone, and he was inching further down, working to keep his throat relaxed. He had all except maybe an inch of Tim in before he was pulling off quickly, coughing. Tim’s fingers relaxed in his hair and he laughed, leaning his head back.

“Careful,” he whispered, “Don’t hurt yourself.” Damian looked up- and Tim’s laughter died. His pupils were huge, eyes so dark they seemed entirely black, his lips wet, swollen, parted. “ _Fuck_ ,” Tim breathed, letting his hand fall from Damian’s hair, his thumb tracing along his lower lip. Damian turned, nuzzled into his palm, glanced up at him as he kissed it.

“Keep touching me,” Damian whispered, turning away from Tim’s palm, his hand wrapping back around the base of his cock. Tim worked his fingers back through his hair again, stroking as Damian took him back in- moving faster this time.

Tim moaned, working to keep his hips from pushing up- but Damian’s hands reached up, squeezed his thighs, and Tim was pushing up into his mouth, chasing the pleasure that was building in his belly, coiling tighter and _tighter_ -

“Damian, Dami, _move_ ,” Tim forced out, tightening his hold in his hair, tugging- trying to pull him off. Damian groaned, sucked harder, gripping Tim’s thighs so hard Tim thought he might bruise. He tightened his grip harder in his hair, tugging- and then Tim was tossing his head back, moaning so loudly his voice ended hoarse, his cock pulsing over Damian’s tongue.

The teen didn’t move, until Tim’s hips were relaxing- then he was pulling off, crawling right into Tim’s lap and straddling him. He grabbed his chin, forced Tim to lift his head, crashed their lips together. Tim moaned again, mouth opening, as Damian’s tongue pushed in-

Slick and bitter and god, _he hadn’t swallowed yet_. Tim wrapped his arms around him, clutched at him tightly and licked himself from Damian’s mouth, felt him swallowing and wondered if he actually liked the taste of himself- or simply how he tasted in Damian’s mouth.

Damian pulled back, licked his lips, and Tim pushed his hips up, out of relax. Didn’t matter that he’d gone soft, that Damian was fully clothed- the look in his eyes alone had Tim wanted to tear him apart, to fuck him over the desk, to have him ride his cock right in that chair-

“ _Share_ ,” Damian whispered, one hand reaching down, palming himself through his jeans.

Tim swallowed, thickly. “Not here,” he forced out, voice hoarse. Because through the warm, light haze the alcohol had settled over his bones, through the aftershocks of his orgasm, he could still register that this was _Bruce’s study_ , and probably the last place he should be-

Especially if he was thinking about fucking Damian.

Damian frowned, but slid off Tim’s lap. He stood, watching, _waiting_ , as Tim tucked himself away, fixed his jeans, and stood up. He took Damian’s hand, tugging him around the desk- out of the room, back into the hallway. He passed his own room, headed straight for Damian’s, tugging the teen inside quickly and nearly slamming the door shut.

Damian turned, opened his mouth to speak, and Tim had him, had his hands fisted in his shirt. He spun them, slammed Damian up against the door, lifted up on his toes and devoured his mouth. Damian groaned, seemed to melt into him, let Tim’s teeth tear at his lips, let his tongue pry past his teeth, his thigh press between Damian’s, rubbing up against his crotch. Damian shuddered, stumbling when Tim suddenly pulled back, tugging him away from the door.

“Bed,” Tim whispered, his voice hoarse, and Damian nearly ran, climbing on it. Tim grinned, tugging his own tshirt off as he crossed the room, crawling up behind him. Damian stared, stared at the curve of his collar bone, the scars that littered his shoulders, his chest, abs. He crawled back, on his elbows, until he was pressing into the pillows, and Tim was pulling his knees apart, sliding in between his thighs.

“Drake,” he breathed, as those hands ran up the insides of his thighs, Tim’s thumbs tracing up along the obvious shape of his erection, through his jeans. Damian’s eyelids fluttered, and Tim chuckled.

“Off,” he said, eyes flicking up along Damian’s shirt. “All of it.” Damian didn’t hesitate, tugging his tshirt off and chucking it away. He reached down, managed to get his jeans open- but Tim was leaning over him because he could squirm out of them, had his mouth on the base of Damian’s throat, sucking a bruise right over the center of his collar bone. He whined, tossed his head back, as Tim kissed down the center of his chest, licked at a thin scar.

He sucked another bruise into Damian’s ribs, had the teen pushing his hips up, precum soaking through the front of his boxer briefs as he sought friction. Tim let him grind against him, but refused to quicken his pace. He let his hair dust along Damian’s chest as his tongue flicked out, traced a circle around one nipple. Damian arched, gasping, and Tim smiled to himself, doing it again before closing his mouth over it, sucking gently. Damian reached up, raked his hands along Tim’s bare shoulders- and he was shuddering, feeling the burn in his skin as it nearly broke.

Tim pinched the bud between his teeth- soothed it again with his warm tongue, before he turned, moved to the other. Damian was whining, as Tim chuckled into him, lapping at the bud after he’d worried it cherry red with his teeth.

“You are still,” Damian broke off, gasped as those teeth pinched again, “a tease, Drake.”

“Yeah,” Tim whispered, glancing up at him. “ _I am_. But have you ever been this hard?” He reached down, gripped Damian through his underwear, watched his eyes nearly roll.

“...No,” he admitted, and Tim smirked, leaned his head back down.

“Then don’t complain.” He lapped at his nipple again, before kissed back down, along his ribs. Tim took his time once he reached Damian’s abs- if only because they were glorious, crossed with scars, the muscle hard beneath his dark skin. Tim sucked a bruise next to his navel, heard Damian whine, felt his hips pushing up- and god, he felt cruel, but it felt _so good_.

And he didn’t want this to end. Didn’t want Damian to get off yet. Wanted to have him trapped in limbo for _hours_ -

If he was honest with himself, wanted to make sure Damian was so far gone that there was only room in his head for Tim- that all thoughts of Dick were pushed out. Wanted him to come so hard that Damian _forgot_ all about him.

Tim paused, at the waistband of Damian’s underwear, left a final kiss before he was lifting up, shifting over one of Damian’s legs. The teen gritted his teeth, pushing himself up to glare at Tim, who reached across him, grabbed him be a belt loop and tugged.

“On your belly,” Tim whispered, and Damian furrowed his brow. “Trust me. I’ll make it worth your while.”

Damian sighed, but listened- and there was something to that, something in that trust. That he knew Tim would make him feel _good_ , that had Tim shivering.

He didn’t want Damian to feel anything _but_.

Tim grasped at his clothing, once Damian had rolled over, watched him lift his hips as he pulled everything over the swell of his ass. It took a moment to get it all bunched down around his knees, and then for Damian to squirm out of it all- but it was worth it, when he was blissfully naked and Tim was given a moment to stare, as he shifted back between his legs.

He leaned over him, kissed the nape of his neck, before he opened his mouth, tilted his head and sank his teeth into Damian’s skin- until Damian was giving a sharp cry, and the skin was nearly breaking. He bucked back against Tim- and when he pulled off, the indents in Damian’s skin were so deep it was a miracle it really _hadn’t_ broken.

“You’re mine,” Tim whispered, “for the rest of the night.” Damian only nodded, and Tim kissed his shoulder, fingers tracing an old, heavy scar he found there. He traced it with his tongue, teeth graze the top of his shoulder, before he settled up on his knees. He reached out, traced his fingers down the heavy scar on Damian’s back, along his spine, watched the muscles tense as he did so.

His cock twitched in his jeans, his heart fluttering over every perfect muscle that shifted in Damian’s shoulders and back. If he wasn’t careful, he’d be hard again, before he was done-

Honestly, Tim wasn’t sure there was a way to avoid that.

“God, you’re fucking amazing,” he breathed, hands splaying at the base of his back, thumbs fitting perfectly into the dimples there. “You know that?”

Damian exhaled, shaking slightly, and Tim ran his hands over his ass, squeezing. That got him a low groan, and Tim felt his heart rate picking up, the muscle feeling like it was about to crack his ribs open.

“You’re gonna feel so good,” he whispered, “ _I promise_.” Damian turned, glanced over his shoulder, Tim’s name on his lips, as Tim gripped his ass cheeks, leaned down and pressed his mouth against his hole.

His name was long forgotten, and all he got was a surprised yelp- and then Damian, pushing back against him, as his tongue laved over his hole. He felt Damian shake, squeezed flesh harder as he traced the ring of muscle with his tongue, over and over again. Damian started whimpering, little moans ending in breathy sounds, gasps, mixes of _Drake_ and words that weren’t even in English. Tim moaned, pushed his tongue into his body, and Damian bucked, gasping loudly.

“Hell, Drake, _Drake_.”

“Yeah, babyboy?” He pulled back, Tim’s chin wet, and Damian shuddered- full body, his cock pulsing between him and the bed.

“Touch me, _please_.” Tim smirked, helped Damian shift back onto his back, and then descended down on him, before he could breathe. He grasped him, held him steady as he sucked, had, and Damian was nearly howling, arching his back. Louder than he’d been before, and god, Tim was sure a thousand times sweeter. He inhaled through his nose, pulled his hand away, took Damian in until his nose was pressing to the dark curls at his groin. Damian was _thick_ , and it made his jaw ache, but there was something so exciting about it, especially when hs brushed the back of Tim’s throat and Damian was shouting, “Drake!” His eyes had gone wide, hands scrambling along the bed, as Tim eased back up, only to swallow him down completely again.

Tim reached for his hips, held them, as Damian groaned, the sound rattling up from his ribs, his head tossing back as he shouted his name again, and then his cock was pulsing in Tim’s mouth, back against his throat. Tim swallowed, knew by the way Damian shook he _felt_ it, and had to swallow again, to keep from choking.

Damian tasted differently than he did- Tim noticed it more, when he finally pulled off, licked his lips and swallowed a final time. Herbal, almost. Could’ve made a joke it was all the tea he drank.

Without realizing it, Tim was grinning to himself.

“What are you smiling about?” Damian asked, voice wavering, as he pushed himself back into the pillows. Tim flushed a little, shifting over his leg and moving up sit next to him.

“Nothing,” he whispered, shaking his head a little. “So, did I keep my word? Make it worth your while?”

Damian said nothing for a moment, before he reached over, sank his hand into Tim’s hair and leaned in, kissed him- gently. _Softly_. Tim fell into the calm rhythm, and when Damian pulled away it felt far too soon.

“You did,” he admitted, and Tim grinned, as Damian leaned back in, kissed him again.

His belly went up in knots, the hot kind, like heated silver, like molten gold- and Tim couldn’t explain it, was in his mind enough to know he was sobering up so fast it was ridiculous, for him. Knew it could only be _Damian_ that made him react like this-

That was terrifying. That seemed more than what this was.

“You feel better?” Tim whispered, as Damian’s hand left his hair, reached down and rested on his hi, thumb stroking along the curve of bone. He nodded, gently, glancing down- his mouth cracking a smirk.

“Did you not get enough earlier?” Tim furrowed his brow, glanced down- before blushing, noticing it was _so obvious_ he was hard again.

“No, I did,” he whispered- suddenly worried Damian would think he hadn’t bee enough. And god, _god_ , he had been-

That had been possibly the hottest moment of Tim’s life.

It surpassed all his fantasies- and there had been a _lot_ of those.

“Mhm. I am not sure I believe you.” Damian slid his hand off Tim’s hip, popped his jeans open for a second time and got his hand in them. Tim gasped, pushing towards him, and Damian chuckled. “In fact, I’m positive I _don’t_.”

“You just... you turn me on,” Tim admitted, leaning in and trying to hide in the crook of Damian’s neck, as the teen fondled him through his cotton underwear.

“It’s mutual,” Damian admitted, pulling his hand back and wrapping his arms around Tim. “Like this?” Tim glanced up at him, and Damian raised a single eyebrow. “...Like in the shower.”

Oh. _Oh_. Tim reached down, pulled himself free of his underwear, stroked as he nuzzled against Damian.

If Damian wanted to hold him while he got off, he’d be the last to object.

Damian’s hands splayed on his back, rubbed gently as Tim’s hips bucked, as he writhed, moaned into the skin of his neck, his shoulder. He twisted his fist around the head, gasped as it shot a hot wave down his spine. “I’m,” he started, “Not going to...last.” He was almost embarrassed over it, but Damian was kissing his hair, his temple, finding Tim’s mouth and kissing him sweetly again, like he _mattered_.

“I don’t want you to,” he admitted, “Just feel good.” Tim moaned again, stroked faster, rocked against Damian’s body and simply let him hold him, hold him until he came with a breathy gasp, until he went limp in Damian’s embrace.

Tim let his head fall down, rested it in the crook of his neck, as Daian continued to rub his back. It took Tim a moment to get his breathing back in order, before he was smiling, lazily, whispering into Damian’s skin,

“We’re really making a habit of this.”

Damian laughed, leaning his head back. Tim grinned to himself, pulling away and adjusting his clothing. He climbed over Damian, heading for the bathroom to wash his hands. By the time he was stepping back out, Damian had put his underwear back on- but hadn’t bothered with anything else. He’d thrown the blankets back, was looking at him with expectant eyes.

“The light,” he said, glancing over at the switch, “Before you get back in bed, please.” Tim nodded, crossing the room and flipping it off, before he moved towards the bed. He shucked his jeans off, crawled over Damian’s legs and settled in next to him, as Damian pulled the blankets up. He rolled over before Tim could move, locked an arm around him and pressed his face against his shoulder.

“So I guess I’m staying?” Tim asked, nearly laughing at himself.

“-tt- why would I want you to leave?”

Tim shrugged. Oh, he didn’t know. Maybe because him staying made this seem like something- maybe because in moments like this he thought he was really _seeing_ Damian, like the kid was opened up- and Tim couldn’t keep himself closed off either. Like under the blanket of night, if they weren’t fucking, they were trying to _be_ something.

Tim knew that couldn’t be- not now. Not with wounds so raw that he couldn’t be sure either of them _wanted_ anything more than sex. Not when it would point them towards more heart ache.

But Damian was nuzzling his shoulder affectionately, squeezing him gently. Tim smiled, reached up to rub his arm- and tried to put it out of his mind. He could think about it tomorrow.

“You know,” Damian whispered, placing a gentle kiss to Tim’s shoulder, “you gave me a... name.”

Tim furrowed his brow. “What?”

“A... pet name, I believe.” Tim kept his frown- before he remembered his own mouth saying _babyboy_ , and he groaned.

“Holy fuck, I didn’t even realize- shit. Sorry, that uh...that’s awkward.” Tim stopped rubbing Damian’s arm, reached up to scrub his hand over his face. “I got caught up.”

“Don’t apologize. I... I did not hate it.” Damian glanced up, and in the dark Tim could barely see his eyes.

“Really?”

He nodded. “Say it again.”

Tim hesitated, before he rolled over, reached up and cupped Damian’s cheek. He leaned in, kissed him softly, whispered against his pliant mouth _babyboy_ , and felt him shiver. He smiled, softly, as Damian kissed him harder, tangling their legs together.

“I like it,” Damian whispered, and Tim knew that was definitely beyond the _not hating it_ step. “It makes me feel...” he paused, licked his lips, “affectionate. _Wanted_.”

“Well, ‘course I want you,” Tim whispered, before he clamped his mouth shut. This felt like dangerous territory- like the start of empty promises.

“...Like how I feel when Grayson called me Robin.”

Tim knew it _was_ dangerous territory now.

“New rule,” Tim whispered, kissing the bridge of Damian’s nose, “don’t think about Dick when you’re in bed with me. Okay?”

Damian smiled, rolling his eyes. “I have not been, Drake. Only you.”

Tim fought down the shiver, but couldn’t keep his stomach from feeling light, like he was going hollow and could levitate, right up towards the ceiling.

“Get some sleep,” he whispered, trying to change the subject. He locked his arms tight around Damian, who relaxed against him, clutched at him as well, nodding slowly.

“You as well.” Tim kissed Damian’s hair, and told himself he would. Told himself he wouldn’t dwell on anything, and that in the morning, this would be okay.

*

This time, when morning came and Tim woke up, he wasn’t confused about whose bed he was in. His head didn’t pound, and when he shifted, Damian was wrapped tightly around him, mumbling in his sleep and pressing his face closer.

Tim let his eyes flutter open, looked down at the sleeping teen. He smiled softly, stroked his fingers along his back- wasn’t sure he’d ever felt this warm in his life. Damian felt like a furnace, like fire beneath velvet wrapped tightly around Tim. The blankets had trapped more of the heat, and Tim, for a moment, was sure he never wanted to leave that bed.

“You’re so warm,” he whispered, kissing Damian’s hair, squeezing him gently. The teen sighed, eyelids fluttering open, head tipping back as he looked up at Tim. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you up.”

Damian said nothing, simply let his head fall back to Tim’s chest, placing a lazy kiss to his skin. “You are forgiven,” Damian whispered, “if only because you are so comfortable.”

Tim laughed at that, squeezing him again. “And you’re a heater. _It’s great_. Remind me to never sleep alone again.” Damian hummed his approval, sliding his foot along Tim’s calf.

“That could be arranged.”

Tim tensed at that, but before he could say anything, Damian was leaning back, flopping onto his back and sprawling out. Tim smiled, pushing himself up so the blankets slid off his shoulders, crawling over Damian so he was looking down at him.

“You want coffee?” Tim asked, as Damian stretched, arched his back and brushed against Tim’s body. “Because I could really use some.”

“Are you offering to get it for me?” Damian asked. “Because I have no intention of leaving this bed yet.”

The fact that Damian was echoing Tim’s earlier thoughts was scary.

“I am,” Tim whispered, leaning down and kissing his forehead. “But you owe me.”

“Oh? Do I?” Tim nodded, this time kissing the bridge of his nose.

“One hell of a good morning kiss,” he whispered, and now, the tip of Damian’s nose, “when I get back, okay babyboy?”

Damian smiled- the sweet kind, the real kind Tim wasn’t used to seeing. “Okay.”

Tim tugged his jeans on before leaving the room, but didn’t bother with his shirt. He was feeling rather good, despite the fact that it felt like he was _too comfortable_ around Damian, now. That he knew, in his gut, that he had to be careful- make sure neither of them turned this into more than what it was-

Mutual comfort with the benefit of _forget how they scorned us_ sex. Simple, right?

He sighed, shrugging it off as he stepped into the kitchen, heading for the coffeepot. It was blissfully already on and almost done brewing- Tim made a mental note to thank Alfred for understanding how they all ran on it- and he pulled two mugs down, tapping his fingers on the counter as he waited for it to finish.

“Hey stranger.”

Tim glanced up, over at the doorway- felt his stomach freezing up. Dick was leaning against it, arms folded, offering him that charming smile that used to make Tim utterly _beam_.

“I was beginning to think you’d died in your room or something.”

“What are you doing here?” It wasn’t warm, or friendly, or inviting- Tim realized he was tensing, that he didn’t _want_ to see Dick, right then.

That he was afraid _Damian_ might see him.

“Bruce and I were going to go over a case, it’s crossing lines between Gotham and Bludhaven. Alfred said he’s still out, long night I guess.” He pushed himself up, walked towards Tim. “But really, I haven’t heard from you-“

“I haven’t felt like talking.” Tim inhaled, slowly, added, “To anyone.” _Except Damian_ \- but could he consider any of that _talking_?

Dick nodded, his smile falling away. “Look, Tim. Maybe we should talk, you and I-“

“About what?” Tim pushed away from the counter, fully facing Dick. “About _what_ , exactly? You sleeping with Jason? Because trust me, I don’t want to hear about it.” Suddenly, his calm was gone. Suddenly, whatever sort of serenity he’d found in bed with Damian had evaporated- _and Tim was all bitter rage_.

“Tim-“

“I guess I just don’t _get_ it. I expected more of him- more of you. God, would it have been so hard to fucking _tell me_? Instead of watching me make an ass of myself, throwing myself all over him. What? Did you get a kick out of it? Fucking get a good laugh at my expense?” Tim had moved away from the counter now, his cheeks tinging in color. Dick frowned, narrowed his eyes.

“Tim, neither of us were laughing-“

“You’re my _brother_ , Dick. I looked up to you. Maybe have a little respect, maybe tell me you’re fucking the guy I would’ve jumped off the top floor of Arkham for.”

“Listen, I’m not going to let you tear into me for being _happy_. I’m sorry you found out the way you did, that wasn’t what we wanted. We were going to talk to you, alone.”

“But you got a little drunk and fucked it all up, didn’t you?” Dick glared now.

“You’re acting like a child.”

Well, maybe Tim _felt_ like a child. A child that wasn’t being given his favorite toy- and possibly being thrown against a wall until his skull cracked open. That about summed up what he felt.

Tim clenched his hand into a fist, and without thinking he was crossing the room. He swung, connected with Dick’s jaw and watched him stumble back a single step. Dick’s eyes widened and he reached up, rubbed at his jaw, before he was lunging at Tim. He grabbed him, turned him and shoved him up against the wall, in the doorway, pinning his wrists up above his head.

“Get a hold of yourself!” He squeezed Tim’s wrists as Tim squirmed, glaring up at him. After a moment, Tim relaxed- but Dick didn’t let go. His glare softened, until finally, “I might have deserved that.”

“I might have liked it.” Dick sighed, let go of Tim’s wrists, but kept him boxed in. Tim lowered his arms- could admit, it had felt _good_. He wanted to hit Jason, too. Just once. Get it out of his system.

Maybe he just really needed to hit something, over and over again, until it didn’t get up.

“I _am_ sorry, Tim,” Dick said, softly. “Even if you don’t believe me. I’m not sorry I’m with Jason- but I’m sorry you had to get hurt. It’s not what I wanted.”

“I know. I know.” Tim crossed his arms, protectively. “I’m not...I’m not mad that you’re happy. I _want_ you both to be happy. I just...I loved Jason for so long. It just...sucks.” Dick nodded, reached up, very tentatively rubbing Tim’s bicep. Tim didn’t push him off. “We’re both just heartbroken and trying to deal with it.”

Dick furrowed his brow. “Both?”

Well, _shit_. Tim sighed. It wasn’t his place, he knew, to say. To divulge Damian to Dick- but, well, he was worried no one _would_. “Damian.”

“What about Damian? What’s wrong? He’s been so distant-“

“He loves you, Dick.” There was a pause, and Tim added, “Not like you think. Loves you, like I love Jason.”

That had him frowning. “You can’t be-“

“Serious? I almost wish I wasn’t, then he wouldn’t be _hurt_.” And it was true- part of the anger Tim felt towards Dick was _for_ Damian. Because he’d hurt him- because Tim didn’t want to see him hurt. Just wanted that sleepy smile he saw, in the morning, that free laugh-

“Fuck.” Dick reached back, scrubbed his hands up over his face. “ _Fuck_.”

“He’s not taking it well. Granted, I guess I’m not either. We downed a bottle of whiskey. And last night, we ended up in Bruce’s Bourbon.” Tim shrugged a shoulder. “But we’re...working through it.”

“Damian’s _drinking_? He’s just a kid, Tim.”

“He’s a kid with a broken heart who doesn’t know how to handle it. Sorry that I wasn’t in my right mind enough to think the babybat shouldn’t have a drink.” _Or that I shouldn’t get lost in him, after_.

“I have to talk to him.”

“Yeah, you do. But not right now. Trust me.” Tim pushed off the wall finally, moving around Dick, back to the coffeepot. “He’s not at that point. Just like I’m not really ready to have this conversation- or to see Jason. You two go be happy- but please, give us a little time to be happy _for you_.” He pulled the pot out, poured some into two mugs, and moved to sweeten his. Dick was still silent, behind him, until Tim was moving to the fridge for the creamer.

Then, in a voice that seemed to almost crack, “Tim...your back.”

“Hmm?” Tim glanced over his shoulder, caught a glimpse of the scratch marks that dragged down his back- no longer the angry red they had been the night before, but still pink. Damian hadn’t broken the skin, but he’d sure as hell come close. “We’re working through it the only way we know how to.”

He turned, faced Dick, and the man’s eyes widened. Tim wondered if he was putting two and two together- if in his mind, he was picturing Damian and Tim as a tangled mass of limbs, rolling around Damian’s bed, clawing frantically at each other.

“If he’s hurting you-“

Ah, no. He had gone in the other direction. “He’s not,” Tim said, turning away from Dick and pouring the creamer in his coffee, before putting it away. “He’s not hurting me at all.” _He’s helping me_. “Just let us work through this how we need to, Dick. And when we’re ready- you’ll know.” He picked the two mugs up, turned back to him, and Dick was nodding.

“Yeah. Okay. Just...we love the both of you a lot. Don’t forget it.”

Tim forced a smile- sad, fake, but still there. “Yeah. I know.”

*

“What took so long?” Damian asked, as Tim closed his bedroom door with his foot. He had stretched back out on his side, had pulled the blanket up. His voice was sleepy, caused a strange sort of affection to bubble up inside Tim.

“I...ran into someone,” he admitted, because lying felt _stupid_. He held a mug out to Damian, who flicked his eyes to the nightstand. Tim nodded, set it there, but held his own, taking a sip- not crawling into the bed, simply standing in front of Damian.

“Who?”

“...Dick.” Tim watched Damian’s eyes change- and suddenly, he wasn’t sure he’d ever seen anyone as sad as Damian Wayne.  
“Oh.”

“Yeah.” Tim sighed, then, after a nervous laugh, “I might’ve punched him.”

“ _You hit Grayson_?” For a moment, Tim thought Damian might be angry, before he gave him a lazy smile. “I wish I had seen it.”

“Sorry I couldn’t push him off a roof for you.” Damian snorted.

“You’re forgiven if you get back in bed.” Tim hesitated.

“I don’t know if I should,” he admitted, setting his mug aside. “Maybe you-“

“Please, do not tell me what I need,” Damian whispered, “Just...just get back in bed.” Tim sighed, but listened, crawling over Damian’s legs. He tugged the blanket back, squirmed beneath it, barely had it situated before Damian was turning, wrapping his arms around him and settling in, against Tim’s chest.

Tim wrapped his arms around Damian, kissed the top of his head. But in his skull, his mind was spinning- what was he _doing_. He couldn’t keep going back to Damian, like this- didn’t want to _hurt_ him.

Didn’t want to treat him like some sort of rebound, to help cope with his affection for Jason. Worried the fact that Damian snuggling into him made his stomach tighten in a way that might not be _real_ , might simply be a reaction, a cover up, a distraction-

“What are you thinking about?” Tim looked down, saw Damian was watching him with those jade eyes.

“Just that...I don’t want to hurt you.” Damian frowned, and Tim sighed, flopping over onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “We keep coming back to each other, Damian. I don’t want you to... get the wrong idea.”

“And what idea would that be?” Damian pushed himself up, stared down at Tim. “You were the one that said sex is a good distraction.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t sex, is it?” Damian frowned. “Look, the last thing either of us needs is to get hurt again because we’re rebounding off Jason and Dick. I just...want to make sure we’re on the same page. That-“

“-tt- if you think I’m developing affection for you, you are delusional.” Damian’s frown turned into a scowl. Tim didn’t believe it.

And he didn’t believe when he said, “Me neither.” He didn’t believe it for a minute.

Damian leaned over Tim, glancing down at his mouth, before his eyes flickered back up to his. And, in a quieter voice, he added,

“That also does not mean I want you to leave.” Tim nodded, slowly, reached up and traced his fingers along Damian’s cheek.

“I’m not,” Tim whispered, “Now, come back down here- you’re warm, and I’m cold.” Damian laughed at that, settling down onto Tim’s chest, as Tim pulled the blanket up over him, hugging him tightly. Damian nuzzled into him- and _no_ , this definitely wasn’t affection.

Tim wasn’t sure who he was trying to fool, but it wasn’t working.

“It felt good,” Tim whispered, “hitting him. Maybe we need to hit something.”

“Is that an invitation?”

“It can be.” Tim smiled. “If we ever leave this bed, that is.”

Damian yawned. “Later,” he mumbled, placing a lazy kiss on Tim’s collar bone. And Tim didn’t argue.

*

Tim gritted his teeth, arms up, crossed, blocking Damian’s hit. He stumbled back on the mat anyway, as Damian let out a cry and swiped a kick at his side. It connected, and Tim went down on one knee, groaning.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been going at it- wasn’t sure how many bruises he’s boast from Damian’s anger- how many Damian would wear from his own. The mood felt such a contrast to Damian’s bed, to the lazy kisses he and Tim had shared, before they finally separated, briefly.

Long enough to change, and meet in the cave.

Tim growled, threw himself down flat as Damian kicked again, rolled onto his back and grabbed Damian by the leg, pulling it out completely from him. He went down, _hard_ , next to Tim, and he heard Damian groan, watched him arch his back as the pain sparked through him.

“Feel good?” Tim asked, trying to catch his breath. He’d sweat through his tank top already, watched as Damian’s clung to him, in the same state.

“Yeah,” Damian admitted, glancing over at him, panting. Tim pushed himself up, rolled his neck, before he braced himself, beckoning Damian on with a curl of his fingers. Damian was up faster than Tim was braced for, charging at him, shoulder down. It connected, under Tim’s ribs, knocked the wind out of him, and Tim was on his back, staring up with wide eyes as Damian smirked at him.

“Fuck,” Tim cursed, and Damian chuckled. “Pretending I’m Grayson?”

“You said I could not think of him when we were in bed,” Damian offered, “not when we were sparring.” Tim grinned, pushed himself up- ignored that it hurt, before he leapt at Damian, curled himself around him and jerked his body, throwing him off balance. They fell to the ground, and Tim straddled him, reaching for his wrists and pinning them down, above his head.

“Then you won’t mind if I think of Jason,” Tim offered, still breathing heavily. Damian hummed, before he leaned up, closed the space between them and stole a kiss. Tim pushed against his mouth, _hard_ , nipped at his lip until Damian was falling back to the mat.

“Was that me,” he whispered, “ _or Todd_?”

Tim simply stared at him- because the answer, in pure honesty, was that it was _Damian_. And Tim was acutely aware that it was Damian.

“If I was Dick, you would’ve bit my lip off,” Tim whispered, his grip relaxing on Damian. The teen frowned.

“And if I was Todd?”

“I might’ve punched your teeth out, instead of letting you kiss me.” He leaned down, closer. “Should I let you up?”

“Yes. I’m not _done_ with you.” Tim grinned, released his wrists and stood up. He reached down, gripped Damian’s hand and pulled him up, tugging him in close and stealing another brief kiss, before he was walking backwards.

“C’mon babybat,” he taunted, “let’s see you take me down.”

Damian grinned, and it was wicked and gorgeous, and Tim wasn’t sure his heart had ever beat so quickly in his life.

Damian hit hard, like Tim expected him to. He hit with his rage bottled up, channeled into Tim as if Tim could take it- because he _could_. Because he’d been the only one to even see it, so far. And Tim liked it, liked how Damian’s hands felt on him, even when they were hurting him. Like the fact that he saw those jade irises cracking, that he could see Damian, through them.

Like that Damian was letting him see at all.

And he returned the hits, dragged Damian down to the mat more times than he ever had. But he didn’t put a different face to him, never once truly pretend he was _Jason_ \- simply admitted that he was someone who understood. Someone who Tim had let see the hurt, the pain- who knew it at his own level.

Someone who he was so alike. To the point that it was terrifying.

He was dragging him down again, when he heard footsteps around the mat, the sound of a throat clearing. Tim glanced up, half sprawled on Damian, who was on his belly, found Stephanie was watching them, arms folded.

“Tim,” she said, “we need to talk.”

And suddenly, the ease he was beginning to feel was gone.

“Yeah, okay.” He pushed himself up, watched Damian roll over and reached down, hoisting him up. “Call it quits?”

Damian clicked his tongue. “Not yet.” He leaned in, slightly, and Tim was acutely aware of Stephanie watching them, as Damian’s fingers trailed along Tim’s belly. “Sorry you’ll have to shower without me.”

He’d spoken it softly, but Tim wondered if Stephanie heard him. He said nothing- but he was sure Damian saw it flicker in his eyes, that moment of desire- because he was smirking, turning and walking off the mats. Tim turned towards Stephanie, walked over and motioned for her to follow him, towards the lockers. He’d left his gym bag sprawled out there, didn’t hesitate to peal his tank top off in front of her.

“Talk,” he said, “Because I need a shower.”

“You’re avoiding me.”

“Yeah.”

“Don’t be an _ass_ Tim. I’m sorry you feel so betrayed that I was excited for Dick and Jason- but well, c’mon. You know they work. And they deserve to be happy.”

Tim frowned, balled his tank top up and tossed it next to his bag. “Yeah, yeah, they’ll be good for each other.”

“You hit Dick, I heard.”

“Uh-huh.”

“You going to punch Jason too?”

“Thought about it.” Tim sighed, turned to her. “I expected you to at least _care_ that I was upset, Steph. You’re supposed to be one of my best friends.”

“I did care!” She tossed her arms out. “Tim, _I cared_. But you fucking disappeared, and I didn’t know where you went- figured maybe you needed some space. I checked your room before I crashed in Cass’s, but you weren’t there. Hell, I sort of wondered if you called Kon and got an airlift straight outta Gotham.” She sighed. “I’m sorry, I wasn’t there to help you. But we’re all _family_. We can’t just... split like this.”

“I just need time,” Tim admitted, “I need time to think, to clear my head.”

Stephanie nodded. “You need to get away,” she said, “you need a change of scenery. I know that feeling- hell, I disappeared for what, two weeks when we broke up?” Tim offered a tentative smile. “Get outta Gotham and forget about this mess. Live a little. Take down some baddies, eat too much pizza with your friends. Heal a little.” She crossed the small space between them, reaching out, taking his hand. “And then come back and tell me all about the hotties you saved, and how you _totally_ got someone’s number.”

“Pfft, funny Steph.”

“I’m being serious! Go make a mistake, go get laid, I don’t know. But don’t sit in the damn Manor and rot because Jason didn’t crawl into your bed. He’s not the end all be all. Besides, you’re too cute for him.” She squeezed Tim’s hand, leaned in and elbowed him. Tim rolled his eyes. “But really.”

“Bruce wanted us around for the holidays,” Tim reminded her, “I feel like I _need_ to be here.” Not to mention, he couldn’t leave Damian- not now. Not when he needed someone to cling to.

But if he was honest, everything Stephanie was saying- it sounded perfect. Like everything he could’ve ever needed. Time away, time to think, forget- remove himself and come back fresh.

“He’ll live,” Stephanie said. “And if he gets pissy, you tell him to come to me. And I’ll sic Cass on him.”

Tim snorted. “Fair enough.” Stephanie smiled, letting go of his hand to wrapped her arms around him. Tim embraced her back, as she kissed his cheek.

“Really, think about it. I think it’ll be good for you, to get away. I want what’s good for you, Tim.” She smiled, soft and affectionate. “Always have. Now, _please_ go shower.” She pulled further back, scrunching her nose up. “You smell like your suit.”

Tim laughed at that, letting go of her. “You know, Damian wasn’t up there complaining about how I smell.”

“Yeah, was he getting up close and intimate with you? Because unless he was, I don’t wanna hear it.” She tossed her hands up playfully, turning and walking away-

And Tim bit his tongue, held back the retort that she had _no idea_. Because whatever he and Damian were doing, it was between them. The last thing they needed, he was sure, was the rest of the family butting in and putting in their own ideas over whether or not it was healthy for them, to cope like this.

Tim was sure it wasn’t.

*

He didn’t see Damian, after his shower. Tim told himself it was for the best- that he did need some space. And maybe that Stephanie was right- space away from _Gotham_ in general.

He thought about it. He mulled it over, while he read over case files, worked on a program for the Cave computer. Thought about it until he _couldn’t_ anymore, and he was leaving his room, heading for Bruce’s study. It hadn’t even occurred to him, as he let himself in, that he and Damian had never put away their mess from the night before. He found the Bourbon bottle right where they had left it, along with the two glasses. He sighed, picked the bottle up by the neck, walked over to the cabinet he knew Bruce kept the liquir in, and stored it away. He was turning to grab the glasses, go wash them, when he realized the study door was open again-

And there was Bruce, standing in it.

So much for him never knowing.

“Hey,” Tim offered, reaching for the glasses. “Just picking up my mess.” Bruce stepped in, closed the door behind him. He crossed the room, stopping at the other side of the desk. “You might need another bottle of bourbon soon, just a heads up.” Tim forced a bitter smile, glancing back down before he even found Bruce’s eyes.

Felt like a little kid, waiting to be put in time out.

“Tim,” Bruce started, and his voice was uncharacteristically soft, “What’s going on?”

“Your kids are fucking.” And _that_ wasn’t what he meant to say, at all. But it had Bruce staring at him- had his attention. “Dick and Jason. They’re a thing.”

“And you’re upset about it.”

Tim snorted. “Want me to lay my massive fucking crush on Jason on you, and how I found out because they got drunk and decided to just tongue fuck each other in front of me?” Bruce glanced away, and Tim thought maybe he’d crossed a line. _Maybe_. “Sorry, bitter at times.”

“Understandable.” Tim quirked up a brow. “But drinking alone isn’t going to make you feel better.”

“Seemed to work for you, when you had love affair issues.” Another low blow- and Tim knew that Bruce didn’t _deserve_ this. But there was something about having to constantly explain the situation that just irked him. “And I wasn’t alone. Your son was the one who broke into your liquor cabinet. I just made sure he didn’t drink the whole bottle.”

“ _Damian_?”

“Yeah. Pretty heart broken too. Please tell me _you_ at least noticed his crush on Dick- because the fact that no one else sees it is getting pretty fucking annoying.”

“His...what?”

Tim sighed. _Some fucking detective_. “Your youngest wanted to fuck your oldest, and he’s heart broken that Dick is bedding down with Jason. Pretty sure I can’t spell it out any clearer.” Except for the part where Tim was fucking _him_ now.

Bruce reached up, pinched the bridge of his nose. Looked like he had a migraine coming on.

“Yeah, it’s a mess.” Tim set the glasses back down, walked around the desk, folding his arms. “It’s a mess, and I need to get away from it. Look, I know you wanted us all together but- but I need some space. I need some _time_. I can’t stay in Gotham right now, not when I’m running into Jason or Dick every other day. I need to clear my head.” He paused, swallowed. “Because I _want_ to be happy for them. We all should be. But I can’t do that yet- I’m not there.” He shifted. “So, I’m going back to the tower. I’ll spend some time with the Titans, get my shit together- and when I come back, everything will be good.”

Bruce frowned- and Tim knew he really _did_ want the family together, for once. That he was trying, was honestly _trying_ to fix the bonds that years had eroded, the splinters between everyone. But Tim couldn’t do this-

For once, he needed to think about himself _first_.

“I’m leaving tonight,” Tim added, “Because if I don’t, I _won’t_. But... but you need to keep an eye on Damian. He’s not okay Bruce- I don’t care how he seems to anyone, _he’s not okay_.” He was bottling things in, Tim thought. Avoiding the actual problem- just like Tim was.

And maybe, while Tim needed time away, Damian needed to be grounded back in reality- _without him_.

Bruce was nodding, slowly. “I will...”

Tim smiled. “You better. If I come back and Robin has an alcohol problem, I’m blaming you.” Bruce cracked a smile, before he reached out, tugged Tim over to him. Tim fell into it, rested against Bruce’s chest- let him wrap his large arms around him.

“You’ll get over it,” Bruce offered, and it was the closest Tim knew he was going to get to a full heart-to-heart with him over the matter. But it was enough.

“Yeah,” Tim whispered, “I know I will.”

He just needed time.

*

Tim paused at Damian’s door, knuckles raised, ready to knock. He hesitated, his heart beating wildly against his ribs. He hoped, he hoped so hard, that when he told Damian he was leaving, the kid wouldn’t _care_. That it’d be the old Damian, the Damian who didn’t need him, didn’t cling to him.

If only because he couldn’t stand the thought that he was hurting him too- and that, if Damian asked, _he’d stay_.

He inhaled, slowly, knocked. There was a moment, before he heard Damian calling _come in_ , and he was pushing the door open.

Damian was at his desk, curled up into the large chair there, sketch book in his lap. He glanced up, and his neutral expression cracked into the faintest of smiles at seeing Tim. Tim’s stomach flipped, and he wanted so badly to walk right back out that door.

“Drake.”

“Hey. Listen, Damian,” Tim reached up, rubbed the back of his neck. “I just... came to tell you I’m leaving.”

That little smile was gone faster than it had come, and Tim thought he might have imagined it.

“I need some space, after all this. Need to breathe. I’m not going to get over Jason sitting around here. And I... I didn’t want to just _leave_. I wanted you to know.”

Damian nodded, slowly. He was gripping his sketch book gently, smudging the graphite from his pencil. Tim couldn’t see what he had been drawing.

“But, if you need me,” Tim added, “I’m a phone call away, okay? I mean it. If you-“

“I will be fine, Drake.” Damian straightened his shoulders. His eyes seemed hard- not in a cruel way, but as if a wall had been put up, one Tim felt he had been chipping away at. “I...apologize for how you have seen me recently. But I am fine.”

A lie, a blatant, terrible lie. And Tim wanted to cross the room, to wrap his arms around Damian and tell him it was alright to be not be fine. To stroke his hair, kiss his temple- to beg him to cry, to just get it out, get it over with. To ask him to break, so that he could pick up the pieces for him, and Damian could be _okay_ again.

Instead, he stood in the same spot, fingers itching to feel Damian’s skin and hair beneath their tips.

“Well...just remember. A phone call.” Damian nodded, and Tim rocked back, on his heels. “I... I should get going. Drive and all, before the snow starts. Supposed to get some tonight.”

Another nod. Still, Damian didn’t move.

Tim wished he would. Wished he’d cross the room, wished he’d press up against Tim, give him an excuse to kiss him goodbye, at least. But no, jade eyes like a statue stared at him, and Tim exhaled, slowly.

“I’ll...see you later.” A final nod, and those eyes- they were saying it, they were screaming. A final, silent show of what was inside Damian, the last peek within those cracks, before they were sealed up.

Stay, _stay_. What Tim needed to hear- but what wasn’t said. Tim saw it, and his heart broke- but without Damian’s voice, there was no anchor, nothing holding him down.

He turned on his heel, walking out of the room, letting the door shut behind him, the sound resonating within his skull.

Tim felt like he was breaking two hearts- Damian’s, for a second time, _and his own_. But he couldn’t stay, _he couldn’t_ , not when he had so much to sort out. Not when he needed to come to terms with the loss of Jason- not when he needed to put into perspective what had happened with Damian.

Not when he was terrified, because it felt so much like falling, all over again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'd like to write one or two more fics in this series, eventually. (We'll see how well that goes of course)


End file.
